


Head Shoulders Knees and Toes

by kinoface



Category: Arashi (Band)
Genre: Anal Sex, Body Part Kinks, Fingerfucking, Hand Jobs, Loud Sex, M/M, Oral Sex, Shower Sex, Table Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-11-01
Updated: 2013-11-01
Packaged: 2017-12-31 03:40:01
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,437
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1026815
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kinoface/pseuds/kinoface
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Arashi is more than the sum of its parts... but Aiba really likes those parts.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Head Shoulders Knees and Toes

**Author's Note:**

  * For [silver_crystall](https://archiveofourown.org/gifts?recipient=silver_crystall).



> Originally posted [here](http://kitto-slutparty.livejournal.com/15072.html?format=light) for Kitto Slut Party 2013. Thank you, yayhooraibaby, for the wonderful beta!

During Shiyagare one day, the aniki guest starts talking about his favorite part of a girl's body, and of course that gets the discussion going. One of them joins in and says he likes arms, another says waists, and yet another says butts. They laugh and move on when the staff tells them they're running short on time, but Aiba keeps thinking about it long after the recording. It's not girls' bodies he's thinking about, though -- not that he doesn't like girls or anything. It's just that, when he starts thinking about favorite body parts, there are certain people who jump almost immediately to mind.

 

**&**

The water hasn't warmed up yet when Aiba shoves Sho into the shower. Sho yelps, jerking under the chilly stream, but it turns into a moan when Aiba's knees hit the tile floor. They're still fully clothed, and the water is coming down full blast; it only takes a few moments before their clothes are soaked through, their T-shirts translucent where they stick to their skin.

Aiba noses up Sho's belly, to his abs, where he laps at Sho's navel over the wet cotton of his shirt. Sho shivers in response and works a hand into Aiba's dripping hair, pulling him back far enough to look him in the eye. Without breaking their gaze, Aiba peels Sho's shirt off his skin, pushing it all the way up to his nipples, and reaches around to grab Sho's ass and pull him forward.

"Cheater," Sho laughs.

Aiba doesn't dignify that accusation with a response, too busy licking his way up Sho's stomach, collecting the water with his tongue. He knows Sho is a bit ticklish, so he skirts his tongue around to Sho's waist just to feel the way Sho's muscles jump under his mouth, to hear the way Sho's breath hitches -- to see the way Sho's cock grows in his jeans. He bites at Sho's waist, just enough to make Sho moan, and murmurs against the skin there, "Miss your piercing."

Sho breathes, "You say that every time."

The water is heating up, not quite steaming yet, but Sho's skin is turning pink from the warmth and from the way he's flushing under Aiba's attention. "I mean it every time," Aiba says, grinning, and drags his teeth down Sho's stomach, but it's smooth, smooth, nothing there for Aiba's teeth to catch on until he's all the way down to the waistband of Sho's jeans.

He undoes the button with his teeth, and the zipper as well.

It's a little tricky to get the jeans down Sho's hips with how sopping wet they are, but Aiba is determined, and Sho is full of encouragement. By the time they're down around his knees, he's fully hard, his dick standing proud and eager, glistening wet from the water. Aiba looks up, knowing his face must be flushed, his bangs must be plastered across his forehead, and he licks his lips slowly. He sing-songs, "Itadakimasu~" and keeps on smiling when Sho laughs breathlessly.

Once he gets his mouth on Sho's cock, he concentrates first on inching his way down the shaft, easier than usual with the aid of the water, and gradually works up to loosening his jaw, opening up his throat, easing back his gag reflex. Once he has a rhythm built up and Sho's dick is halfway to the back of his throat, he can free up a little of his attention for running his hands up Sho's thighs, his hips, back up to his stomach. He feels out the curves of Sho's abs, slippery but firm; he changes then to a feathery light touch, tickling again because he can't get enough of the way Sho twitches away from him, those glorious muscles contracting all in one go, and then comes back just as quickly for more.

That's the thing about Sho: he'll take and take, accepting anything Aiba wants to dish out, because he knows that Aiba would never hurt him for real -- and because he likes the way Aiba teases him. Pretending he doesn't is just part of the fun.

 

**&**

It started during dance practice. Ohno was trying to teach them some new routine, but it required such precision and fluidity that they were all having trouble somewhere or other. When Ohno ordered them all to sit back and _watch_ , Aiba lost any hope of learning anything more that day -- not with the way Ohno's hips were moving right there in front of him. All Aiba wanted was for Ohno to keep dancing, was to stand up there and join him, to hold Ohno's hips against his and dance so close they couldn't tell one pulse from the other.

He wanted to push Ohno up against the mirrored wall of the dance studio and fuck him right there where everyone could watch.

He settled instead on inviting Ohno home after practice and so he could put those hips to work. What he didn't even consider was this: finding himself face-down on his bed, a stack of pillows tucked underneath his hips, naked and panting around the fist he shoved in his mouth because he has _neighbors_ for fuck's sake and he doesn't want to bother them with all the obscene noises he's making as Ohno works another long, slick finger inside.

Aiba bites off a whimper around one of his knuckles, feeling his thighs start to tremble. Ohno's other hand is rubbing circles between Aiba's shoulder blades, but the calming sensation does nothing compared to what he feels when Ohno crooks both fingers against his prostate.

It takes him a moment to remember how he even got here like this. There was dance practice... his plan to put Ohno's hips to good use... but when he got Ohno home and in bed, they started kissing, and Ohno started touching Aiba all over, started undressing him, started pushing him onto his back and rutting against him. Before he knew it, Aiba was so far gone, was so deep down in that warm, hazy feeling of _Leader_ that he just went along with it, plans be damned, when Ohno started nudging him onto his side, and then onto his stomach. That's Ohno's charm, really; there's just something about him that makes people want to go along with anything he wants to do.

Of course, it's not like Aiba's complaining. He might have planned on something different, sure, but sex with Ohno is a treat no matter how it happens. Besides, who in their right mind would complain when Ohno's got two soft fingertips against their prostate? Not Aiba, that's for sure.

Behind him, Ohno says something too quiet for Aiba understand, perhaps talking to himself. Aiba pulls it together enough to breathe out, "What?"

At first, Ohno just makes a low hum, something that could mean anything. Maybe he really was talking to himself. But then he says, "Been wanting to do this all day."

Something inside of Aiba clenches up, and it has nothing to do with Ohno's fingers. He swallows, gripping the sheets underneath him. "What's that, Leader?"

The hand on Aiba's back drifts down to squeeze his ass, and then stays there, just feeling. Ohno crooks his fingers again and says, "Open you up."

Aiba shoves his fist back into his mouth, not soon enough to hide the moan Ohno's words startled out of him. He squirms, but it feels like he's bolted in place everywhere Ohno is touching him, where Ohno is inside of him. Once he has his breath back, he can't help but ask, "Since when?" The thought of Ohno wanting him sets all his nerves alight.

"Since dance practice," Ohno murmurs. "I saw you watching me..."

Aiba thinks, _Was I that obvious?_ But then again, Ohno is always honing in on things other people can't even see.

Ohno pulls out only to return a moment later, this time with three fingers and slicker than before. He doesn't play around, just slips inside, giving Aiba only enough time for his body to adjust. Three fingers is so much _more_ than two, and Aiba thinks Ohno shouldn't be able to -- shouldn't be _allowed_ to -- use them so efficiently when they're inside of Aiba like that, taking up every centimeter of available space until it feels like he can't even breathe for how full he is. But then Ohno starts stroking out a new rhythm, and Aiba cries out around his fist, feels his dick leaking precome where it's trapped between his stomach and the pillows. He wants so badly for Ohno to touch him there, he just wants to be able to get some kind of friction, but he can't even move to hump the pillows. Ohno's hand on his ass feels searing hot, Ohno's fingers inside of him feel huge and unyielding, and yet the way Ohno uses them is so graceful, so precise, so coordinated, like Aiba can't move because this is exactly how Ohno wants him: helpless to do or feel anything beyond what Ohno is ready to give him.

Ohno squeezes his ass again and says, "Think you can take four?"

Aiba nods before he can even think about it, whimpering out a stuttered _Yes_. It's muffled, and he's not certain Ohno even heard it, but he's pretty sure Ohno knows. He thinks he can feel Ohno's smile all the way from here.

 

**&**

Nino is good at a lot of things, but his superpower is his mouth. When most people hear that, they might think of his wit, the way he can shoot out biting remarks with nary a moment's notice, or the way he can set the mood with just an observation, just a compliment or a jab. Or maybe they'd think of his singing, that little tremble in his voice that can bring a whole stadium to tears as he sits hunched over a piano or strumming a guitar.

And yeah, Aiba thinks Nino is great at all of those, but when he says Nino's superpower is his mouth, he's thinking of something a bit different.

First, there's the way Nino kisses. He might be lazy about a lot of things, but when it comes to kissing, he's _greedy_. He uses his tongue like he's trying to catalogue everything and it's the only tool he has, licking Aiba's mouth and teeth. He bites, too, leaving little marks wherever he goes. And when those aren't enough, he bites for _real_ , working his way down to Aiba's collarbones, his nipples, leaving vicious hickeys wherever he can; Aiba's chest is almost always bruised in at least a few places from Nino's mouth.

Then -- _then_ there's the way Nino sucks cock. It's like he can't get enough of it, like it's an Olympic sport and he's going for the gold. He sucks at the head of Aiba's dick like it's a lollipop, licks his way down the shaft like it's a candy cane, sucks Aiba's balls into his mouth and then in the same breath comes back up to take Aiba's cock all the way to the back of his throat.

And when he's feeling really adventurous, when all that run-of-the-mill stuff just won't cut it, Nino spreads Aiba's thighs and ducks his head down to eat him out. It surprises and delights Aiba every single time.

Basically, Nino is filthy, and Aiba absolutely loves it. But his number-one favorite thing about Nino's mouth is what comes out of it when Aiba is fucking him.

When it all comes together, when Aiba takes control and fucks into Nino just right, it's like Nino is physically incapable of staying quiet. He moans and keens and wails, he curses, he cries. One time, Aiba covered Nino's mouth with his hand, just to test it, and Nino's squeals still came through loudly enough that the tiny old granny who lived next door gave Aiba dirty looks the next time she passed him in the hall.

Right now, though, Aiba's not too worried about anyone overhearing. Right now he's got Nino on his back on the living room floor, their pants flung carelessly to the side, their shoes only just barely discarded in the entryway, and he's not worried about anything except the way Nino is moving underneath him, giving as good as he's getting and just a little bit extra with the way he's gasping Aiba's name.

"Masaki -- Masaki -- fuck, yes, Masaki, right there, _yes_ \--"

There's no Aiba-chan, no Maa-kun in moments like this. Just Masaki. That's all the brainpower Nino has right now, plus the litany of curses and "yes" and "harder."

But Aiba knows he can do better.

He pulls out so that he can move Nino onto his hands and knees, and this time, when he thrusts back in, Nino doesn't even have breath for words: he _howls_. His voice has gone all high and shrill, just noises as Aiba fucks into him, gripping his hips tightly and making sure to hit his prostate on every thrust. Aiba reaches around Nino's hip to grasp his cock, so hard and wet, he's so ready, and yet he holds back when Aiba starts stroking him. He wails, and the mantra returns -- "Fuck, yes, fuck, harder, Masaki, Masaki" -- but he doesn't come. He'll wait, every time, until Aiba is there too, until Aiba is so ready that Nino's orgasm is what finally sends him over the edge.

Because as much as Nino is a fucking freak when it comes to sex, there's something buried deep inside of him that's just a little sentimental. He likes when they come at the same time; it's his way of letting Aiba know that this thing between them is more than just raunchy sex. It's his way of saying _I love you._

And although Nino's mouth is Aiba's favorite part of Nino's body, _that_ might be his favorite part of Nino.

 

**&**

"On the table," Jun calls from the kitchen. His voice leaves no room for argument.

Aiba pauses where he stands beside the dining room table, dishes in hand. "I know, Matsujun," he calls back. "Of course the dishes go on the table."

In the next moment, Jun appears from the kitchen, walking in to take the plates from Aiba with a cool, expressionless stare. "Not the dishes," he says evenly. "You."

As Jun saunters back into the kitchen, Aiba can't help but grin. He knew teasing Jun all night would pay off.

Jun, for his part, has been masterfully stoic in the face of Aiba's fleeting, flirtatious glances, his skimming little touches across Jun's thighs, waist, shoulder blades, any place he could touch any time Jun had his attention somewhere else. Jun didn't comment on or even react to any of it, but now, as he returns from the kitchen, he looks livid. But Aiba has known Jun for half his life; this is a special kind of livid that means something great is about to happen.

It's the shirt that did it for Aiba. It's a thin T-shirt with sleeves that hug Jun's biceps in all the right ways and fabric that hangs off his shoulders like its sole purpose is not to keep them covered but to accentuate how broad they are. And when Jun invited Aiba over for dinner with that damn shirt on, Aiba couldn't _help_ but tease as Jun started cooking. He's only human, and he'd been staring at that shirt all day.

By now, Aiba has hopped onto the table like it's an examination table in a doctor's office. Jun walks over to stand between his spread knees and reaches wordlessly for the button of Aiba's pants, jerking it open before tugging the zipper down almost roughly enough to cause concern. He tugs the pants down Aiba's hips with such force that Aiba is yanked forward, until his ass is just on the edge of the table, and then Jun pulls the pants the rest of the way off, along with Aiba's boxers, along with his slippers and socks, then comes back up to take Aiba's shirt off as well. Suddenly Aiba is bare-ass naked on Jun's dining room table, and any other time he would make a joke about hygiene, but when Jun crouches down in the space between Aiba's thighs, nothing on earth could make Aiba risk what's about to happen for some dumb joke.

He cannot, however, resist the urge to hook his legs over Jun's shoulders -- those shoulders that look like they were sculpted by a Greek master. Jun lets him, and without saying a word, he leans in to breathe right over Aiba's dick, already hard and leaking just a little. Jun just ghosts over it, touching it with his mouth only enough for Aiba to know what he's missing out on, and then he moves on to nip at Aiba's thighs, to lick up along the creases of his hips. Aiba arches his back and plants his palms against the table. He sighs, "Don't tease."

Jun laughs, playful and sadistic. It's a laugh that says _Why shouldn't I?_ , but what he really says is, "The sauce should be done in about six minutes. Think you can come before then?"

Aiba's already feeling a little breathless. He returns Jun's challenging smile. "Only one way to find out, right?"

When Jun stands up, he lets Aiba's legs stay draped over his shoulders, so that by the time he's up to his full height, Aiba is bent nearly in half. His thighs are pressed all the way up to his chest, and all of his weight is resting on his arms. He can already feel the strain in his shoulders, in his wrists; it's taking all of his concentration just to keep himself upright and to keep his legs over Jun's shoulders. So when Jun leans forward to kiss him, there's not much Aiba can do other than accept it, accept Jun's mouth and tongue, and then accept when suddenly he feels Jun's knuckles tickling the back of his thigh right before Jun's hand closes around his cock. Aiba gasps into the kiss, but Jun is the one who pulls back, watching Aiba's expression as he starts to jerk him off at a slow, maddening pace. Aiba strains forward for another kiss, but Jun just leans away, intent on watching, Aiba flushes under the scrutiny, but there's nowhere for him to go, not if he wants Jun to keep touching him.

If Aiba's time limit is six minutes, it must be five minutes that Jun keeps touching him, gradually building into a quick, brutal rhythm that has Aiba's arms and legs shaking. Pretzeled up like this, he can't move forward or away, can't control the pace at all; the only thing he can control is his voice, but the longer Jun watches him, the more it feels as if even that is beyond his grasp, like Jun's smoky gaze keeps pulling out these whimpers and cries even when Aiba tries to bite them back.

When Aiba comes, Jun catches most of it with his hand. A little gets on Aiba's thighs, but he's not too worried about it -- not when the only thing he can focus on is the way his toes are still curling, his veins sparking with little aftershocks.

Afterwards, once Aiba has caught his breath, Jun leans back slowly to give Aiba's thighs a break. It's then that he notices the spot where Aiba's come has dripped onto the table. He regards it with one coolly raised eyebrow just as the oven timer starts to go off.

They eat at the kitchen counter that night.

 

**&**

More than Sho's washboard abs, more than Ohno's skillful fingers, more than Nino's filthy mouth or Jun's supermodel shoulders, what Aiba loves most is when he has all those things all at once.

It's when he gets to watch Ohno use his fingers one at a time to prepare Sho for his cock; it's when Sho's abs tighten as he tries not to come down Nino's throat too early; it's the way Nino's mouth curls around the syllables of whatever depraved scenario he's whispering into Jun's ear to make Jun moan like that; it's the contracting muscles of Jun's shoulders when he pins Ohno down to fuck him so hard he keens.

It's when Aiba's there in the middle of it all, in love and overwhelmed by how lucky he feels just to be with these four people.

And it's the same way Aiba has felt about everything: the other members are all amazing on their own, but it just isn't Arashi until they're together as one.


End file.
